The car park at the foot of the hill was understandably empty, the hill was completely devoid of people. I felt confused and angry. It seemed hard to understand banning hill running when there was zero chance of transmitting the virus to anyone. Surely if you couldn’t be suffering from a deadly virus and still be running up a hill, after all if it was like the flu then hill running was the last thing you would be doing. This was of course before the 2 week incubation period was really known about and the seemingly large numbers of asymptomatic carriers who could also transmit it. But at that point it all made no sense to me. Maybe in reality though it’s my state of mind that should be questioned. My concerns were not whether I would keep my job in the face of the inevitable economic uncertainty of a global pandemic nor whether I would succumb to a deadly illness. No, my concern was whether I could go running.
“Further announcements” ie: the announcement of lockdown were to come from Downing street on the Monday night. Another strange decision amongst so many throughout this whole crisis. Monday was the day after Mother’s Day. Why not lockdown before Mother’s Day? Surely it was obvious what was going to happen on this commercially hi-jacked day so far removed from its original religious roots and yes, Mother’s Day was originally a religious festival before you ask.
A little lesson in religious history – Mother’s Day or, to
give it the correct title Mothering Sunday, had nothing to do with visiting
your mother – it was the 4th Sunday of Lent when it was traditional
for people to return to visit the mother church which was the main church or
cathedral in the region or county. It did not involve spa weekends or Pandora
bracelets. The current incarnation is an American invention dating from 1908
and American Mother’s Day is in May, not during Lent. And from what I could see
during my run around Hazlehead Park on the Sunday, the hills no longer an
option, it was clearly happening – big multigenerational family groups all out
and about having picnics against all government advice. How many lives would
have been saved if lockdown had come in 2 days earlier let alone 2 weeks
earlier? Not being a huge fan of these based-in-religion-now-hijacked-by-commercialism
type of events it was certainly a little anger provoking. Actually I think I’ve
just answered my own question there. The decisions made by government thus far appear to have all been based on the
economy rather than reducing the death rate.
I ran slowly up and down the hill relishing the silence and
the cold and the dying light of day giving way to a starry night. At the foot
of the hill I stood slightly forlornly and watched the stars above the silhouette
of Clachnaben wondering when I would be back.
It was an important lesson in impermanence I suppose,
nothing is forever and its possible in a very short space of time for
everything to be taken from you in ways you could never have anticipated. But
then likewise again everything changes quickly and the dark cloud started to
pass after a few weeks as predicted by the scientists. The gradual easing of
lockdown started in June and by the 3rd July we were allowed to
venture further afield than the regulation 5 miles. How I envied anyone living
in Aboyne or similar locations who could just run or cycle to the mountains
throughout it all. Aberdeen is fine for running but there are just too many
people, everywhere was often so busy during the remarkable spell of good
weather this spring. I longed to run somewhere where there were no people.
July 3rd was a Friday. The 5 mile travel limit was finally lifted so I decided that the appropriate thing to do would be to visit the same hill as my final hill run before lockdown, Clachnaben. As it was a work day this meant a pre-work start on a wet cold summer morning and I wasn’t the only one who had that idea as I could see the silhouette of a runner on shoulder of the hill up in front of me. I was at the summit before 7am and a cold rain shower was blowing through as I looked out at the mists skimming the hillside with a sense of relief. Freedom at last. Away from the city, away from people. Proper self isolation. I’m not sure what I expected to see though. It was not as though the hills would have suddenly changed in the space of 4 months, they were always going to be there waiting. The bracken was longer and the grass and trees lush and green compared to that almost winter night I was last there but no, nothing had changed. At one point a mountain hare bounced past me and I’m not sure who was the most startled, him or me.
